


? distraction, partner in crime, lover ?

by riddleb9y



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Arkham Asylum is Terrible, Autistic Edward Nygma, Banter, Bisexual Edward Nygma, Comfort, Edward Nygma Has OCD, Escaping Arkham Asylum, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gay Jonathan Crane, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Jonathan Crane was a great professor, Multi, Nonbinary Character, One Night Stands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Southern Jonathan Crane, The Rogues Gallery (Batman), The Rogues Gallery as Family (Batman), ed uses they/them pronouns, how is that not a tag?, situationship - Freeform, thats the joker and harley, yes arkham misgenders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:54:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28635075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riddleb9y/pseuds/riddleb9y
Summary: eventual scriddler rights
Relationships: Edward Nygma & Bruce Wayne, Edward Nygma & Harleen Quinzel, Jonathan Crane & Harleen Quinzel, Jonathan Crane & Pamela Isley, Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	1. the scarecrow in waiting

**Author's Note:**

> so i did some revising but and yes, Ed is trans in this bc i can and will. however, if there are errors they're mine! (and i apologize :/)

"So, Mr. Nygma." The psychiatrist began from across her office desk. "How are you feeling today, have you settled into your old room?"

By room, she meant cell. They almost laughed at the woman's attempt to evade mentioning their incarceration. They were the Riddler, not some citizen who'd experienced a psychotic break. Rogues didn't need coddling.

In response, they crossed their arms, shifting back in their chair. "Well Doctor," They dragged out the ‘r’ while peering at her name tag, "Alverez. I'm bored. As usual in this dreary dump."

She flashed an unimpressed look. "Yes well, the guards have reported that you’re refusing time in the rec room. For all you know, you’d feel entertained there."

Thereupon, Ed decided the woman irritated them. They were always unconcerned with meaningless activities in Arkham. They were for children, and the instructors hadn’t a clue about the psychologically ill. The best 'therapy' for Ed’s boredom was Dr. Jonathan Crane, who was in solitary after Batman had missed a syringe and Arkham staff confiscated it. After declaring Jonathan a deceitful psycho, they sent him off to the cement box. That was a week ago; cruel punishment was the motto of Arkham's behavioral therapy.

"If I’m shared, I’m lost, though I’m always yours to keep. What am I?"

"You know I can't satisfy you with an answer." She couldn't solve it if she tried, they thought. "If you are feeling a need for contr-"

"Yes yes, I've read the self-help books. The answer, Doctor, is a secret. One Arkham isn't keeping well." They raised an eyebrow. "Jonathan Crane." A flash of concern flickered across the psychiatrist's face, rising glee in Ed.

"I don't follow what you're implying, Mr. Nygma." But contrary to her statement, the woman’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

They huffed at her fictitious ignorance. "It's unethical. You know it, I know it, and I'm sure Arkham's donors would agree. For instance," They tilted their head. "Bruce Wayne."

Hostility masking her features, she snapped. "I believe the last time you saw Mr. Wayne you had a gun pointed to his head! I doubt he will take any of your calls."

They recalled the incident. They were a villain, and Bruce Wayne was a Billionaire. Their paths had crossed several times, and the heist from last year’s gala was a front page news story. But, Bruce Wayne was the Batman, and the Batman had morals. He wouldn't let Jonathan rot. And for the record, Nina pointed the gun.

"I think you'll find the opposite when you're being stripped of your license for extensive abuse of power over the, 'mentally ill'."

The chair screeched as she abruptly stood. The clack of her heels to the door lacked rhythm, and her face was a distasteful shade of red. Opening the door, she issued hushed and curt orders to both of the guards.

"Is our session over so soon?"

She jabbed a furious finger at them, "You can spend the rest of your day in the rec room. Your contact privileges are revoked, and you'll be assigned a new counselor tomorrow."

The guards, Montgomery and Lozano, moved into the room and cuffed them. Behind her face-guard, Lozano laughed.

"Told you he'd make it to four by March." She hoisted them from the office, her coworker locking the door.

"I swear I lose more money than I make while working here."

…..

The guards deposited Ed in the rec room, leaving them to scope out the next move. No phone or visitors would be a bitch, but loopholes existed for a reason. And observing Harvey in the corner, the perfect solution came to mind. 

Ed gleefully walked toward the former attorney exclaiming "Harvey!" while sitting down. "Nice to see you here. It's been a while."

With eyes still focused on his book, Two Face replied. "Nice to see you've stopped sulking."

With their hand over their chest and an audible gasp, Ed responded. "Me sulking, why I'd never-"

"You would. Crane is in solitary, and you've been in a mood for days."

"Why would I waste my time on Crane? I can entertain myself perfe-"

"Because the two of you are a thing, and without access to your obsessions, your puzzles and his toxin thing, the two of you need each other." Harvey closed his book. "So what do you need from me?"

Ordinarly, they would question Harvey’s renewed psychological reasoning, but asking would be a waste of time. There was a mission and a scarecrow in waiting. "I need a burner phone, please?" 

The man considered the offer, and with Ed's batting eyelashes, he crumbled. After all, an owed favor from the Riddler always paid off. Reaching under the fabric line of his jumpsuit, he removed a cheap flip phone. "Don't get caught, I want it back."

Snatching the phone, Ed graciously nodded. "By all means! Thank you, Harvey."

…..

The phone hummed, causing the billionaire to startle. The emergency phone was normally peaceful unless agent A or Robin needed him. Intrigued, he picked up the device and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Brucie."

The familiar voice triggered an immediate realization and an eye roll. "Nygma, you should be in Arkham right now."

"Oh, you know. Change of plans and all that."

"Ed," the scolding tone was unintentional, but the Riddler openly exhausted his patience.

"Kidding, I was provided with a phone." 

"Dent?"

"Who else." Contraband was certainly Harvey's known specialty. "Dr. Alverez provoked my privileges when I threatened to call you."

Admittedly interested, Bruce pressed, "And why would she care if you annoyed me?"

"Because she is violating her duties as a doctor and I happen to take notice of such crimes."

"And I come into this because?"

"I am something used with a door, but I’m not a Christmas wreath. Instead, I am kept on a ring I get turned, and I have teeth. What am I?"

"A key."

"Yes! You're the key to freeing Crane from solitary because you can threaten the Asylum."

The enthusiasm in Ed's voice made Bruce facepalm, "Ed I-"

"It's unethical, and he wasn't even violent." Ed paused, recovering their breath. "Look I know you don't owe me favors but you wouldn't even leave Joker to rot in solitary! And he's the freaking Joker!"

Their point was valid. Martha Waybe believed in rehabilitation and the treatment in Arkham was ineffective. Truthfully, there's been numerous occasions where he’s stepped in, trying to improve the Asylum with little progress. "...I'll see what I can do. But both of you have to stay put for at least two weeks. Deal?"

"Fine. Two weeks, no shenanigans. Deal."

Bruce paused, ultimately knowing his conscience had won. 

…..

When Ed awoke to the jangle of cuffs and the sound of guards' voices, they turned to the cell door. Peeling back their eyelids, they saw three figures. The guards made quick work of the lock, leaving the third and familiarly tall person behind bars.

"Why must you take over my bunk when I'm away?" The inquiry was made without venom. Jon was endeared, and Ed’s ruffled appearance softened any bother.

Without an answer, the shorter rogue tackled Jonathan. “Ah, Jonathan! Finally, I thought Bats wouldn’t hold up his end of the bargain.”

“A bargain you say?” Jonathan wouldn't admit to melting into the hug. Solitary confinement was harsh, even for an apathetic person.

Hauling the thin man onto the bed, Ed explained. “Naturally, nothing too severe. I was simply bored.”

A fond, exasperated look came over Jonathan’s face. “It’s as if you believe the Dark Knight’s mission depends on hindering you.”

“Oh he worships me and you know it. Plus, now I have company and you're free to torment the Asylum with me.” Tittering, they nudged him, "Did you miss me?"

"Perhaps." Jon scoffed while tucking himself closer.


	2. escaping arkham

The night schedule in Arkham involved an unlimited supply of guards. More people to attend to dozing off, drugged, inmates. It seemed that the Warden just knew when the criminally insane were at their maddest. Not that the man was ever there to witness patients transfer across his asylum, laced up in straight jackets or threatened into submission. No, the Warden had a family to get home to. No time to witness guards lining the halls as nurses were on standby with sedatives.

Oddly enough, they left Jonathan to be most nights. He was easier to deal with than most patients as long as one of the staff didn’t get too cocky and begin mouthing off about the asylum like idiots on the top of a lopsided hierarchy. Yes, his ‘partner’ was some form of a narcissist, but at least Ed was intelligent. Their rants and claims were decent, unlike the rest of Arkham.

Speaking of Edward, they should have been back to their cell by now. 

Jonathan shifted to give himself a clear view beyond the cell bars. He watched for any signs of a riddling redhead but discovered none. He chastised his mind, refusing to worry. A psychiatrist had likely called upon Ed. Patients weren’t told when to expect those meetings, and oftentimes the meeting ran late. He merely needed reminding about space. A concept in all functioning relationships.

After waiting for an hour or several to pass, inmates don’t have clocks at their disposal, Jonathan was beginning to grow, troubled? No. Ed was an adult, and Jonathan would’ve heard the gossip if they'd been placed in solitary. But, Frustrated? Yes. At midnight, in a secure asylum, every patient should be should've been accounted for . Where was Ed, what was preventing them from complaining to Jon? 

Jonathan recalled Ed having Pamela for a gardening workshop today. ( Why Arkham lets Poison Ivy participate is another wrecked plane of idiocy he simply cannot understand.)

Harshly shoving his book back into the hollow mattress, he groaned. Jonathan recalled Ed having Pamela for a gardening workshop today. ( Why Arkham lets Poison Ivy participate is another plane of idiocy he simply cannot understand.) He was going to investigate the Asylum, risking his freedom after three days free from solitary, all because he was curious about Edward Nygma?

One could glance at Edward’s compulsions if that motivation seems foreign.

Perusal, prying the cell gate was easy, and the noise of creaking metal didn’t gain attention. The guards were oblivious as the night’s shadows concealed him. He strode down the halls, empty and noiseless apart from the occasional scream or delusion being announced.  
Somewhere between the cells and the botanical gardens, he had begun humming to himself. Ring Around The Rosie echoed off the walls as he sought his lover/unintentional person of interest? Either way, he was quite appreciative of the present eeriness.

…..

As always, Ed had minded their own business. They were watering petunias, because they weren't touching dirt unless there was a hot shower with decent pressure available, when Pamela, the witch, had decided to bother them, pestering their next escape plan. While they acquired a knack for escaping Arkham, they were a civilian with no 'powers', and no magical cuffs or isolating cell.

Sure they enjoyed a challenge but not enough to assist Pamela after she'd snatched the last green jello, which was gross but aesthetically pleasing. Anyway, one insult led to another and now they were bound to a bench in the back of the garden where no guards could hear them scream. Great, they would be waiting till morning at this rate. 

However, after several hours of announcing an excessive number of riddles to the silent warehouse, they heard a response. Smooth humming and familiar humming that made them instantly perk up.

“Crane!? How the fuck did you find me?”

Nonchalantly strolling up to Edward, the man replied. “Hello, Edward. You’re out here relatively late”

With levelled eyes, they scarcely explained, “A certain witch decided I would make excellent fertilizer. Do you have a paper clip on you?”

Just as he searched his jumpsuit, a bobby pin came from the pants pocket. Ed's relief was disrupted when Jonathan straddled them, causing them to yelp as Jon fiddled with the lock. The embarrassing position wasn’t uncomfortable, Jon’s limited body heat helped to relieve the settled chill. Nevertheless, the Riddler slipped out several complaining grunts as they 

Just as the cuff clicked, their arms around Jonathan’s . “ . I’m not often sincere, though I am polite. What am I.”  
Awkwardly patting Edward’s head, Jon responded. “You’re welcome.”

As soon as they stood, the alarms echoed, startling them and springing Jon into action. 

“We need to make a break for the forest.”

“But my suit-”

“They will place us both in solitary if we do not leave right now.” Jonathan tugged on the shorter rogues' arm. “Either come or I will leave you.”

The moment Jon threatened him. Ed saw the lie. Jon wouldn't abandon him. Maybe months ago but not now. While staring at Jon's determined/panic expression, he remembered Bruce's deal. A deal that was now irrelevant. Weighing the logistics of the situation, Jon was right. And even if he weren't, Ed would follow.


	3. first meeting

When the Scarecrow's first crime hit the GCPD, Ed attended the case. The fear toxin baffled detectives, officers, and forensics, but Ed was astonished. Whatever chemical, combination being used altered with every attack. They had several eyewitness accounts, but the Scarecrow was still at large. It took months for the criminal’s arrest and prosecution. Ed followed numerous reports, developing a slight obsession with Jonathan Crane’s game of nightmares.

Upon their admission to Arkham, they avoided the other rogues. Escaping was the primary focus. The nut-house was a lighter sentence than Black Gate, but they weren’t insane. They weren't like Two-Face or the Joker; he had an agenda, a list of rules, and an opponent. They took the insanity plead to avoid a trip prison. So, keeping their head high, they strode through the Asylum, ignoring slurs and terms like narcissism and the spectrum, which came up in mental evaluations. They’d break out and pursue the game, regardless of Arkham’s bullshit. And it worked. Avoidance kept most trouble at a sufficient distance, minus the cafeteria food which couldn’t be avoided. Outside of Arkham staff, they remained silent for three days. 

The brutes were twice their size with severe rage issues. They’d ambushed them after lunch, and he knew what was coming. They didn’t try running after the first swing, they merely stood there anticipating the typical routine beating. But no punches followed the first blow. They glanced up in confusion, wondering if the men were expecting some else entirely. They found Pamela Isley behind the largest goon, grasping their fist while whispering harshly. The creeps retreated while she stared with disinterest.

"I'm surprised you lasted 24 hours." Up close, the first notable detail was their height difference. She was at least 5'10, three inches taller with broad hips and long, artificially dark red hair.

They stood up, holding on to the remnants of their dignity. "There was no need for your meddling, and it's been 74 hours."

"Harvey was right, you are a brat." She chuckled, "He's the one who requested my help. Being fair, the damn guards can't do their jobs." Gesturing towards their body, she added, "You do realize you're prey for any overcompensating asshole or perv."

"I can handle myself fine."

"Sure you can. Now come back to the rec room. You've been the talk of the table."By table, she meant a combination of plastic chairs and fordable desks, crammed close enough for card games between laudable rogues.

They were reluctant, but escaping Arkham would require alliances, even if they loathed Pamela Isley. They’d take the others’ assistance, but not here. Not after their first interaction transpired in unbelievable humiliation She saw past the riddles and showmanship. They terrorized the city for three months, and she treated them like a helpless child. 

.....

History was made the moment Pamela returned to the rec room and Jonathan noticed Ed. They had red hair that was lighter than Pamela's and large glasses which hadn't been disclosed on the news. The Riddler, a villain who bewildered GCPD's finest and Batman, inferior in orange.

Due to his track record, they used an isolated cell to house the Scarecrow. They wouldn't allow him a roommate after the first incident, when his roommate clawed out their eyes. They were going to self-harm regardless of Jonathan's persuasion, but he appreciated the reputation of manipulation. However, because they kept him far from the main cell block, gossips about their newest rogue had slipped past him. Perhaps there was more than what met his eye, but Jonathan couldn't interpret Harvey's interest in a meager teen.

Pamela directed Ed to sit in the free chair next to him. A shiver shook his frame, but his odd reaction went unnoticed. There was an immediate conversation between Ed and Harvey. Involving trades with Penguin for illegal stocks. The Riddler spoke with charm Jon hadn't expected. Puzzles and intelligence exist on separate sides of the mental spectrum; social skills rarely excel in the brilliant. However, bits and pieces of their discussion astounded him. Securing an alliance with Penguin was tricky. Oswald's temper matched his height, and without magnetism, a decent deal was impossible. Yet, the Riddler's talent for manipulation has been clear. He knew just enough to elude steer questions with vague answers. Their tongue was impressive.

Then, for the first time, Ed turned to him. Jon focused on those puzzled green eyes, waiting for a bratty remark.

And, living up to their aesthetic, Ed questioned. "What breaks when you announce it?"

Jon disregarded his colleagues' amusement. "Silence. Your point, Mr. Nygma?"

"It’s Mx. and there is no point to be made. Just an observation, Doctor Crane," The statement inadvertently triggered Pamela's laughter.

Feeling rapidly annoyed, (by the riddle, not the correction of pronouns) he leaned forwards, his lip forming a malicious smirk, "I'd congratulate your finding, but all you proved is your access to the news."

Despite his snide response, Ed didn’t falter, "Fair but, no. Phobias And Anxieties: Interpolating Dialogic Culture and Penetration, it's an exceptional paper. Still lost among GCPD's files, sadly. You're brilliant, which is a extravagant compliment coming from me."

Harvey and Pamela didn't attempt withholding their delight while a rush of heat hit Jonathan. It wasn’t every day someone tried getting to know Jon, he had little patience even for them. For the first time in years, he felt flustered. "You read my dissertation?"

Ed tilted back. "Whatever I could get my hands on. I worked in the GCPD when they arrested you. I sorted through your research, dusted your first finger prints." They face Harvey and Pamela, "Sorry but Environmental Activism and Law aren't my go-to. Though I transcribed reports."

"So you think you're some hotshot because you investigated us, wrote a few Riddles, and wore a shiny green suit?" Jonathan willingly boarded Pamela's validity.

"The Riddler is beyond your agendas," Ed sneered. "My personal endeavor between Batman, Gotham, and my intellectual superiority." If Jon wasn't feeling slightly homicidal before, he certainly was now.

The statement slipped out before Jonathan actually processed how narcissism slipped into his understanding of Ed. "That sounds like a tall tale created by your narcissism." 

Unaffected, Ed crossed their arms, "I prefer the term attention whore, Doctor."

Harvey's howl of glee solidified the dread in Jon's mind. The Riddler was entering their gallery. Harvey approved, and Harley would obsess over their button nosed, freckle painted face. Pamela put up with them, and they already connected to Oswald's inner commerce. The Riddler would be staying, and the Scarecrow would be chaperoning the dramatics of it. At the moment, Tylenol and sleeping pills sounded fantastic.


	4. and they were roomates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so basically this follows the central plot but there will be in between stories like first meetings to fill the build up

The two rogues stumbled out of the stolen car and out to the streets of Gotham. Jonathan swiftly unbolted the front and back license plates, hopefully preventing the police and bats from tracking them.

Walking into a nearby alleyway, Edward motioned for Jon to follow. The other man had no objection to listening to the redhead, considering they were going to one of their various apartments around the city. Usually, outside of Arkham, villains lived separately. However, Batman compromised the Riddler and Scarecrow lairs and Jonathan was screwed because he'd never seen reason in keeping space away from work. He was indebted to Ed’s preparation.

Ergo, there they were, entering a morbidly suspicious doorway that led into a rotting apartment. Although it wasn't as if he could complain seeing their current lack of hideouts. Batman would be on their tail until the next catastrophe, and an inconspicuous apartment would give a better cover. Also, being in the Narrows helped. Ed's apartments often resided in expensive neighborhoods, not where the walls were crumbling, and gunshots rang from a distance. Upon entering, Jon noticed the decor. Simple with minimalist furniture, including a fully stocked bookshelf, a dark green couch, a table in the open kitchen space. The light switch Ed's flicked, lit several end tables with antique glass lamps. Considering the lack of extravagance and security, Jon could make a quick deduction. The apartment belonged to Edward Nashton, not Nygma, which satisfied him a great deal. Edward Nashton was a psychiatric enigma, in Jon’s professional opinion. Many children suffer from OCD, anxiety, and autism without becoming villains. Before the Riddler, Ed Nashton was an intern at the GCPD, fighting with the law, not against it and his progression went beyond riddles.

They collapsed on the couch and tossed their canvas shoes before Ed turned toward Jon. "There's only one bed here so, if you'd like, we can share it."

Jonathan's lips tugged up at the humble request. Their relationship was difficult to maneuver, granted he surrendered the majority of navigation to Ed. There were confusing segments of domesticity and boundaries that neither understood. For instance, sharing a bed without prior activities or waking up from nightmares.

He answered with the most indifference he could manage, “Nygma, Are you propositioning me?"

Ed rolled their eyes, "In your dreams, Crane." Rising from their seat, they arch their back. "I have some old clothes here. They're short, but they're your only option. Unless you want to sleep in that horrendous uniform."

Nodding Jonathan stood. The orange uniforms were shabby, and terrible for sleep. He didn't want to delay resting, physically exhausted and ready to rest. So he followed Ed, and they passed through the hallway before turning into the first door. Much like the living room, the room's design looked humble. From doorknobs to quaintly colored walls. Nothing Riddler green or ridiculously dazzled. Jon could have spent hours psychoanalyzing it.

Unaware of Jon's silent observance, Edward gathered clothes from the wooden drawer set. Underwear would be their best bet in terms of size. Waistband sizes didn't shorten their length, making them a decent fit for Jon's long legs. Jonathan accepted the briefs, without comment and, to Ed's surprise, began to undress right there. They weren't prude, they had seen each other naked before, but he expected more modesty. 

Although they shared a cell, showered, and slept together, in Arkham, those instances didn't apply outside of dazed imprisonment. Conceivably Jonathan could regard any insecurities as irrelevant or pre-exposed. Or he expected Ed to leave? That made the most sense, and so Ed moved toward the door, eyes avoiding Jon's figure.

“I didn’t take you for being shy.”

They froze, “I'm not, I merely assumed you'd didn't want me here.”

“Not very different from the showers in Arkham.”

Of course, Jon would use that line of defense, irrationally irritating Ed.

“Or other activities.”

Writing off the disapproving tone, Jon continued, "Just stay. Alright?"

And Ed complied, quickly undoing the jumpsuit. The shorts wouldn't hide much, but they offered a mimic of preservation. At the very least, they were a decent brand. Meanwhile, Jonathan tried remaining uninterested in Ed, despite the vast amount of skin on display. If not for two hours running from law enforcement, he would have made an advance. But instead, he offered out a hand for Ed's uniform, efficiently folding their jumpers in the particular pattern Ed preferred. Up, right, left, down, and right again. Meticulous but manageable for restraining Ed from refolding the clothes.

Their awkward exposure didn't last long as they silently climbed into bed. The worn mattress was an upgrade from the metal frames in Arkham, and it was easy to settle after Ed manually clicked off the lamp. Once, again, and finally twice. They laid down, stiff until Ed’s hand brushed against Jonathan’s arm. 

“Can we,” Ed hushed, running circles over Jon’s elbow, trusting he'd know.

Without the strength to refuse, Jon shifted closer, accepting Ed's hold. Tight and honest enough to ground him for the night.

Many would pity the Riddler for being caught with Jon. Their relationship was uncommitted and cruel, Jonathan complex, stubborn and distant. But they didn’t comprehend Ed was the exception. The unique attachment Scarecrow allowed, the only weakness.

.....

Adrenaline granted them decent sleep till seven a.m when Ed woke up. Their hair stuck up at atrocious angles and they hardly muttered 'g'morning' before deciding to shower. Jonathan was a corpse without caffeine, but after several minutes, he could move. Utilizing the unsupervised time, he examined the bedroom. He surveyed every drawer, under the bed, and in the closet. Besides dust bunnies, cliché old books and old civilian clothes, the room was bare. Disappointing, but expected. After all, it was a safe house, not a journal.

By the time Ed came out, merrily drying their hair, Jon sat on the bed, flipping through a Jane Austen novel, focused on the annotated margins recording rhetoric and parallel analysis. Looping in familiar font.

As Ed dug through the closet, checking every shirt collar before settling on a mustard green turtleneck, the book went unnoticed. It wasn’t until they looked up, ready to offer Jon the shower, did they notice.

"Where did you-ugh!" They marched over, trying to grab the paperback. Jon stood, lifting his arm high and effortlessly keeping the book above Ed's reach. The shorter man fumed, balancing on their tippy toes, "Stop being a bastard! That's not yours!"

Smirking, Jon relented. He soothed a hand on Ed's shoulder, giving back the book. "You know, they have Austen in the Arkham Library if you're interested."

"It was a long time ago," Ed defended, clutching the book to their chest. "Every teenager reads terrible romance fiction. I doubt you were the exception."

"I never wasted my time musing about Miss. Bennet and Mr. Darcy," Leaning down, he continued. "I suppose you're more amorous than I suspected."

The observation and a decreasing distance between them triggered Ed. they tilted their head up to meet Jonathan's lips. They tenderly kissed and pulled away before melting again, and hands gripping as Jonathan ravaged them and they returned the favor.

When their eyes eventually fluttered open, Ed stared at swollen lips until finally clearing their throat. 

They motioned toward the bathroom, clutching their hand in repeated pulses "Toothbrushes are under the sink. I'll be back with some supplies."


	5. nesting(worming)

With all the engineers in Gotham, Jon didn't know why he requested Ed's assistance. The logical reason was he didn't need to kidnap or blackmail them. And while Jon hates admitting it, Edward's smart. Smart enough to upgrade his equipment and eager to impress. So, after asking Harley for Ed's email, he requested their assistance with a curt message, and Ed promptly accepted.

Jon's home was like a shack in the middle of the city. Hidden between housing projects, away from other rogues, which he preferred. Survival meant sleeping with one eye open, and disturbances are a bothersome he's consistently avoided. Although with Ed coming, his precautions were thrown. Even though the Riddler barely existed a year ago, the newbie manipulated their way up the ladder. Through every rouge and now into the Scarecrows lair. The most absurd part is his willing participation.

There’s no point in picking up his apartment, or so he decided an hour before Ed was due. He refuses to clean up for the Riddler. His books can stay scattered and the shelf dusty. It’s his hideout, and Ed only needs to come, work, and leave. Plus, he’s not living in complete squalor. Paper makes up a majority of the mess, and all of the notes are essential to his experiments. At least they're not piles of scum.

At 2 p.m., the tune of 'shave and a haircut, two bits', echoes from the door. The door creaks as Jon unlocks it, and his eyes do a double-take. Ed stands there, green toolbox in hand with another bag draped over their shoulder. They must be wearing contacts because they are not wearing their typical glasses, revealing green-wide eyes. And there’s no suit, just high waisted green cargo shorts with a black crop top, and matching boots. Jonathan has never discriminated against one for their choice of dress, he’s wearing a flannel for Pete's sake, but Ed’s outfit unsettles him? Perhaps it’s because his hometown would harass any ‘boy’ in feminine clothing. But that premeditated stigma doesn’t explain his chagrin. He doesn't feel nauseated, more confused.

After giving a loose grin, Ed slips inside with zero resistance. They glance around before arranging their bags on the ancient wood coffee table. They suggest moving the clutter, and Jon nods before registering the question. Ed begins stacking the paper, meticulously forming piles for several minutes before moving on to the couch. The cracked leather sofa is scarcely visible under the clutter.

Jonathan would offer to help, but he understands physical interference is useless when managing OCD. Deciding Ed won't mind, he steps out of the room and heads to the kitchen. The only drinks are water, black coffee, and sweetened tea. Judging Ed would appreciate tea more than unsweetened coffee, he grabs and cleans two cups before pouring.Shakes off irrational hesitance to return to the room, he reasons that there is never dull conversation with Edward Nygma, and the destruction of his living room takes precedence. 

Carrying out the tea, he sees Ed finished with several pristine stacks and a white coat in hand. His grey lab coats don’t feel like cotton but foil instead, because any other fabric disintegrates around harsh chemicals. White coats were for ‘recordings’ with ‘patients’. They gave him a clinical mask for his villain hood.

“You should keep a tidier house, Crane,” Ed held up the coat. “I found your Halloween costume.”

With a sour look, Jon marched toward the perky redhead. Setting both cups down, he stuck out his hand, “Give it. I didn’t ask you here to play dress up.”

Ed gasped, feigning astonishment. “Well if I had known that, I wouldn’t have come. Can I wear it?”

“No.”

His patience was wearing, and the prospect of injecting Ed with fear toxin had an increasing appeal. Why would Ed be interested in wearing a dusty old lab coat? The thing was six inches longer than them and far from his usual wardrobe. But, to Jon’s dismay, they persisted.

“Come on, you won’t even have to pay me for making your needle gauntlet. Just indulge me.”

“And why would you make a deal like that?”

Ed gave an unimpressed sneer, “I can wire money to any account any day of the week.” They held out the coat, “I’m here for fun.”

Physically throwing his head back, Jon relented. “I am not your new puzzle, Nygma. You can wear the coat but as soon as you’re finished, you’re taking it off and leaving.”

When Ed rolled up the coat sleeves before they began sifting through the tool kit. Every tool handle and sketching pen was green, not to mention the print paper’s lettering. The synchronicity vexed Jon, but he bit his tongue while Ed ranted about materials and design. As they eagerly questioned Jon about weight and placement, they sketched a near-perfect scale that followed every notation. Ultimately drinking the offered tea, Ed commented about southern hospitality. Jon gave them a blank stare, and Ed answered.

"You let your accent slip sometimes. When you're tired or especially pissed at the guards. Also, 'hrooha' is sounds like a southern monstrosity."

By now, most people would be on the floor, wailing as their adrenaline glands erupted. Nevertheless, Jonathan dismissed the comment. He sat in contemplation as Ed spend the evening rewriting the Scarecrow’s wardrobe. Ed fixated on making him ‘outgrow’ old burlap. Jon wasn’t keen on recreating the Scarecrow’s look, but the current outfit was in shreds. And after he admitted that, they tumbled into dreadful costume planning. Admittedly Ed did most of it while Jon levelled his eyes and groaned at every mention of ‘leather’ and ‘the 'aesthetic’. At 8 pm, Ed finished packing their bags, hastily providing Jon details of what tailor and mechanic they’d be using. Having Edward Nygma produce the latest Scarecrow design was annoying but efficient. Any complaint wouldn't be honest because Jon is appreciative. Ed returned the lab coat, funded their ‘image’ for the scarecrow, and let Jon observe with plenty of snark. But the Riddler was all about control and wasn’t that what they were succeeding? Controlling the Scarecrow. Controlling Jon. Jon should be confronting-breaking them by tugging on every sensitive string-

“Do you want to grab dinner?” The innocent inquiry caught Jon's mental fluster.

"No," He tried his hardest to seem stern.“Why do you do this? This insistent worming. It's pathetic.”

“What are you implying, Crane.” The rawness in Ed’s tone catches him off guard. “I’m tryi-”

“You’re trying to solve another puzzle, Riddler!” As he raises his voice, Ed cringes. "That's it. You're here to solve some lingering mystery about me!"

“To think you’re a psychologist.” For the first time, Jon wants to remind someone his license has been stripped. “You asked me here! You’re just as curious, you hypocrite!”

He hisses, “I’m not controlling”

After letting out an incredulous laugh, Ed counters. “Maybe I’m controlling because you’ve just sat there in unbearable silence. Maybe I’ve had basic conversation skills burned into the back of my brain! Maybe I'm trying to get to know you because you spend all of your time isolated and bitter, even when someone put in effort!” They straighten their posture but the rising flush remains on their cheeks.

The admittance fills Jon with sickening guilt because he’s the one acting like a child. Fearful of finding more monsters as he becomes one. 

He brews in silence until spitting out, “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“Yes, well.” Ed sniffs, picking up the day's work and their bag. “I’ll leave you to your experiments and call you when it’s finished. Good night.”

Consterned, Jonathan mumbles.

“What?”

“I said stay, I’ll order something in. You’ve been working for hours, and it’s hardly courteous to send you home without dinner.”

With paranoia replacing their usual vanity, Ed twirls a strand of hair “...okay.”

….. 

Stabbing at sesame chicken, Ed listened to Jon's first encounter with Ivy. Observing Jonathan consumed their focus, the man was an endearing narrator. It was past 9 pm, and they were on Jon's couch. Since his earlier outburst, Jon hadn't acted pestered or unnerved but, the amiable attitude put Ed on edge. Since they met, their conversations consisted of crime and intellectual interests. The utterly smooth conversation now concerned, like one ill-timed riddle or quip would lock this achievement back up in the highest tower.

"And then she accused me of being homophobic which is absurd, I'm not that self loathing-"

"Your gay?" Ed realized, dropping their chopsticks.

Slowly nodding, Jon replied, "Very much. I thought you were-"

"No, I am! Well, I’m bisexual." They asserted, trying to clear the confusion. "I guess my gaydar needs mending. Although you have the tortured gay proffessor trope going for you.”

“Now that is a disturbing description.”

"Not really, The Good Shepherd was alright."

"Hmm," Jon chewed thoughtfully, "I always preferred teaching."

"Then why switch to Arkham?"

"Blackmail, lack of politically fitting options, not that I aspired to be the ironed doctor they hoped for." Jon noticed Ed's eyes glued to his fork, "What?"

"What four letter word begins with “f” and ends with “k”, and if you can’t get one you can use your hands instead?"

"A fork." He answers, hiding the initial startle. 

"Correct."

"Chopsticks are for snobs and the culturally indulgent, deal with it."

Delighted at Jon's relaxed demeanor, Ed giggles, "See, this is why I'm smart."

"Oh hardly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you remember the 1st version, ch 5 was shorter but that's because i forgot to upload part of the doc >< anyway all usual postings will continue~


	6. sleep isnt for the wicked, but they need it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter~ this would take place after ch. 3/ first meeting. basically jon and ed in arkham without the other rouges and lots of tired/oc/soft jon

"Crane!" The shout came from outside his cell, followed by instant pounding. "You're being transferred, get the hell up!"

Despite being wide awake, he took a moment. It was too late for this, and he'd rather turn over and ignore them. Still hoisting himself up, he hauled his body off the bed and to the door, offering his hands through the cuff slot. The shackles clicked around his wrist and he moved to let the door swerve open. The first guard jerked him out while the second embarked on flipping his cell. Tossing the bed mat and flinging uniforms. Careless, he stood silent, sure the cell was clean. His intake was hardly four hours prior, so there hadn't been enough time to stash books or start freehanded research. Proven when the guards handled a grey bin, packing the uniforms and pillow. Locking the cell, they forced him out to the hallway, shoving him through several main halls before arriving in gen pop.

As they reached one of the dozen cells, the guards pounded on the wall, shouting, "Nygma! Stand still, your new roommate is here." The gleeful tone and familiar name sent Jon into a rage.

"No way in hell, I will strangle them if you put me in there!" The threat was ignored as they forced him inside, uncuffing him without precaution. The second guard dumped the transfer, as Jon complained without courtesy. "If they end up dead, I can't be at fault! You are instigating this-"

"Shut it, Crane, we have the all-clear from both your counselors. They declared that neither of you poses a threat to each other." The man dragged the iron gate closed, letting his partner lock it.

Jon watched as they left, uttering venomously while facing the doors. Why of all rogues? This was the Riddler’s 2nd appearance in Arkham after breaking out only a month into their first stay. During their brief acquaintance, Jon knew his tolerance for riddles was high but doting on Edward Nygma was exhausting. The Riddler never shut up, always pissing off someone new, needing his watchful eyes to scare away predators. The worst part was the obligation, now that the Riddler knew half the gallery. Jon didn’t need Harley’s vengeance or Dent’s prissiness because he took off the training wheels too soon and Ed provoked the wrong person. 

“Crane?” They cracked their neck, “Did they tell you-”

“I don’t know, and have no desire to answer your bombarding questions right now.” Tossing his uniforms at the bottom of the bed, he threw down the pillow. Relieved that his curt answer shut Ed up for the night, he lays down. There were worse people to be stuck with, but the questions stack up. When did their therapist make notes on their interactions? And enough to place him in gen pop with Ed? Do they really think he's gone soft on the new rogue? They were favorable company, but only because of their comprehension abilities.

Time is hard to keep but at what Jon assumes is five a.m., he hears small grunts from the upper bed. A whimper than a muffled, “No, Dad! Plea-please,” and a slight hiccup. Abuse shows itself like a flashing sign to the trained eye, so the confirmation doesn’t take him by surprise. Still, there's something, pathetic? No, not pathetic. It’s provoking, less annoying, even familiar. Nightmares are common in mental asylums. Jon is proof despite his insomnia. But it's Ed's nightmare and he's inclined to listen, to notes the word ‘cheat’ and the phrase ‘no more, I don’t want it.’ The fear and panic are far from typical phobias but give him a sadistic thrill. Would Ed still cry for daddy to stop if injected with the fear toxin? Or would there be another, greater, dread?

But as the crying grows louder, and Ed’s thrashing is insistent. The shaking is annoying and the pleas repetitive, ultimately concluding the small experiment and preying on Jon’s peculiar sympathy. He calls out. “Nygma.”

It does nothing and on his third try, Jon relents, standing tall enough to see Ed’s terrified form and puffy, crying face. Ed isn’t fond of contact, but there’s no other choice. Reaching out he winces while shaking the rogue's shoulder, realizing how easy killing makes his experiments. They jolt up as if being resuscitated. With small hands pressing nails into their freckled cheeks, Jon interferes. 

“Hey, now don’t do that,” He physically pries his hands between Ed’s, ignoring the crescent shapes pinched into his palms. “Edward, calm down it’s just Jonathan.” 

Shaking with gasping breaths Ed, nodding. They squeeze tighter, and Jon can feel the lack of blood flow to his fingers before the pressure ceases. Ed jolts, releasing Jon's hands and scrunching their face. They laid down, flipping to face the wall, their back to Jon.

"Sorry."

The utterance strikes him with pity, but Jon doesn't press. He's not the comforting type and Ed has already begun self-preservation. 

….. 

"Not hungry, Crane?" Ed asks, poking their spork at Jon, disrupting his focus.

"I'm not hungry right now, I'll eat at dinner."

Giving an exaggerated frown, Ed continued drinking their watered-down juice. Mornings we're a hit or miss and Jon hadn't slept the night before. Since becoming cellmates, Ed's was persistent in picking Jon's habits. The man got less than twelve hours of sleep weekly, hardly ate, acting overly bitter. The Scarecrow was going to fade away with his current rate of self-care. Jon had uttered threats a first but now he just sighed in irritation. After finishing half their cup, Ed nudged Jon, wincing when he flinched.

"Sorry," they apologized, pulling back, "Do you want to go to the rec room now? We don't have any mandated activities today."

As one would expect, Ed memorized their schedules. Group therapy Monday and Thursday, randomized group activities on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and weekends were unscheduled besides therapy and optional ‘religious service'. Jon wasn't religious, and Ed figured he’d agree. And two weeks ago, Jon would’ve proven him wrong. But the rec room’s small library was favorable to their sealed cell, so he nodded, getting up to follow Ed. Once they signed off on the guards’ clipboard, turned out of the cafeteria. 

Emptier than usual, the rec room was full of unoccupied seats, but Jon and Ed sat at the usual table. Besides Joker, who was in solitary, none of Gotham’s starlight criminals were in Arkham. But the image is everything, and Ed’s pride would never let them abandon it. When Ed launched a game of Solitaire, Jon plucked Arkham’s torn copy of The Iliad off the bookshelf. They sat side by side, entertaining themselves, for two hours as Jon’s eyelids grew heavy, his head constantly shifting down before he straightened himself out.

“Is it nightmares?” Ed asked the sixth time Jon startled from the daze. 

“No,” He responded, rubbing his eyes before readjusting his glasses frames. “I’m the master of fear, remember Riddler.” Practice in terror didn’t get rid of bad dreams, but Jon never felt disturbed enough to avoid sleep. Fear was inevitable. 

Chuckling gleefully, Ed held up their hands. “Pardon me, Master of Fear,” Jon's cynic glare nearly forced them to drop the subject, but they pressed on “You’re a trained mental health professional, right? So what’s wrong?” 

Jon’s lips twisted, “God's sakes, you are liberal with your questions today.”

With a pointed look, Ed stated “You haven’t been sleeping. You hardly eat, though I'm inclined to say that’s unrelated.” Jon’s never loved eating. Sunday dinners plagued his childhood, and as a professor and doctor, work consumed him. To have Ed notice embarrassed him.

Nervously tapping his fingers, Jon looked down and away. “It’s insomnia, but my body has extended its usual limit.”

Ed glanced up, licking their lips, “Well you could nap if you want. I’ll wake you when the guards come,” The suggestion rushed out. Vicious dark circles and fatigue made Jon snap without warning and there was little desire to be had in his annoyance, which Ed knew.

Briefly warmed by the offer Jon pinches his nose, “Thank you Edward, but I’m afraid they’ll assume my depressive state is worsening and pump me full of SSRIs.”

“Oh, well then tonight. You’ll sleep tonight.” The stern instance forces a nod.

…..

After managing two-thirds of dinner and discussing theories of Atlantis, of all things, with Ed, Jon finds himself ready to go another four hours. Which would’ve been great when he was dragging himself around Arkham earlier. The time approached nine p.m. and he was wide awake, staring as Ed climbed up the bunk. He resisted the urge to bang his head and accepted his fate, sitting up and backing up against the wall. His shifting was obvious because Ed caught on right away.

“I thought you were tired?”

“As did I. Go to bed Nygma.”

For a moment he thought he’d won. Ed was silent and then, “I can bore you to sleep if you think it’ll help.”

“You'd bore me to death.”

He heard a muffled laugh as Ed shifted themselves to bend over the railing. "Do I have to come down there?"

"You're pushing."

"Save it. You tolerate me too much to do anything about it." 

"You're deluding yourself." 

Truly Jon loathed the dotting and chatter, which only showed Ed's loneliness and need for attention. But they were right, Jon will allow it tonight because he's familiar with it. In Arkham, their criminal careers, sleepless nights, and boresome days. And if conversation keeps the remote, empty feeling at bay, he'll take it for both their sakes.

“Do you know the Iliad?”

“Where did you leave off?”

“Agamemnon’s failure.”

Ed’s comprehensive account doesn't follow the epic poem word for word, but Jon finds himself listening intently, especially as Ed interrupted the plot to bash the Greeks and Trojans. They critique the war, every protagonist and antagonist, making the cinematic storytelling into a mini-lecture. Thoroughly enjoying the performance, Jon doesn't cut in. He lets Ed talk, as long as they can until the continuous narrative lulls him to bed. For the first time in a decade, he sleeps without medical assistance or some adverse incident or success. The night prevails with no nightmares or restlessness, just placid sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: while i've been in a psychiatric ward, i've never been in an asylum before, im just doing my best to write arkham right :/
> 
> as usual, all mistakes are mine!!! i hope everyone is safe and healthy, i love you all and please take care~


	7. 'he's staying with me'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorta a filler chapter but i hope you guys enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> both jon and ed are over thinkers and it shows :p

They go to Oswald's first. One quick phone call at a disgusting phone booth down the street, and a ominous black car appears. A chauffeur welcomes them to the long and tedious drive. Gotham City's mornings are bustling with traffic and drug runners tackled by cops. They arrive at the Iceberg Lounge fifty minutes later, which is decent considering its distance from the Narrows. Being in a familiar neighborhood eases the morning stress. They've prepared to go deep under. Batman is known for his detective work and persistence. However, starting over sucks. Sooner or later, Diedre and Nina will break into the apartment and take back their ornate suits and overpriced Kitchen Aid mixer. 

The lounge is vacant, but they're still wildly undressed. Oswald's already pouring wine, as Ed figured he would. When they called the manor, they used the direct line to Oswald's room. They may have woken him, but either way, the Penguin wasn't a morning person. 

In their relief, the man perked up the moment they walked in, lips forming a weary smile. Setting down the bottle, Oswald motioned them forward, gently guiding Ed to a free bar stool. During business hours, all meetings would ensue in the back offices. And because Ed wasn't interested in liquor during social visits, they'd never really sat on the tall bar stools. They were uncomfortable but stylish and-

"Ed, Edward?" Oswald said, trying to catch their attention. 

Popping away from the distracting thoughts, they nodded. "Yes? Sorry," they tapped their forehead. "My mind's wandering. But, don't fret, I came for a good reason, though. Last night-"

"You and Crane left the Asylum and took to the streets, I know." Lifting his wine glass, Oswald added, "Your Bonnie and Clyde routine is impressive, I'll give you that."

"So you heard?"

"Read the front page. It's got both your mug shots, and a tip line."

Ed shot a worrisome glance at the guards, "And you're sure your guys are loyal?"

"Of course, my friend," He waved a man with a suitcase forward. "I hope you don't mind. I cashed out account 789 ahead of time."

Throwing their head back, Ed laughed, "Ozzie you're a lifesaver! This is why I don't use banks." They accordingly threw their hands around Oswald.

Satisfied with the praise, Oswald returned the gesture. "No need to thank me, just take care. Also," he pulled away from the embrace, grabbing something from his pocket. "Burner, your henchwoman dropped it off."

"What would I do without them?"

Thereon setting the burner phone on top of the suitcase, Oswald offered for Ed to stick around and eat. But, remembering Jon, they politely declined. Catching on, Oswald asked if, by chance, Ed knew where the Scarecrow split off too. 

Sheepish, Ed chuckled accordingly, "Oh, he's staying with me." 

They recall numerous warnings from the others. At one point they were all adamant that any relationship between was a fool's game for rogues. And playing it off, Ed almost convinced themselves that was simply the truth. To be honest, their criminal affair was the most complicated entanglement Ed's ever condoned, but it's not dangerous. 

…..

After texting Nina and Diedre, they move on to their next errand, buying clothes and food. The girls pick them up, towing them from the club into the car, thanking Oswald as he observes their reunion, thoroughly enjoying Nina elbowing Ed’s ribs. In the next car of Ed’s dutiful dull morning, the day's plans are ordinarily planned with a comforting efficiency.

“So we’re essentially going shopping,” Nina summarizes while making a 90 degree, jolting their bodies left.

“In simple terms? Yes,” they gesture to the suitcase. “Clothes, food, and the rest goes to you two, when the apartment is robbed.”

Turing, Diedre places her hand on their knee, “Boss, I support you but buying your boyfriend clothes wasn’t in the contract.”

They shift their weight from side to side, “I know but I’m in a predicament and Batman’s metaphorically gunning for me because I said I would wait to escape if he got Jonathan out of solitary but I didn’t. And I indirectly let Batman compromise bot our lairs when we got locked up-”

“Wow, slow down, Boss,” She laughs. “A; You’re stupid for crossing Batman. B; When did you lead him to both lairs?”

Slouched with a sigh, they tossed back their head, “Long story.”

The car halts outside an abandoned street market, and the women grab five hundred dollars worth of twenty-dollar bills. 

“What sizes?”

“Um medium, medium shirts, small if they’re long. Size eleven shoes, 29 waist and 38 inseam for pants,” They shrug in response to the suspicious glances. “I sorted through his closet once…” 

“Not unexpectedly,” Nina states fondly, “Will we need his back and cup sizes too, or-”

Waving their hands in a mechanical cross-motion, Ed clarifies, “Flannels, button ups or turtle necks. High waisted slacks, I know he owns jeans but it’d be pushing it. Maybe a belt? His weight fluctuates. Oh, and t-shirts for pajamas!”

Diedre pops open her door, “I almost feel bad, stealing your chance to dress your boyfriend.”

The truth causes Ed to sink down wearing over-exaggerated pout, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

….. 

Once he’s showered, Jon steals a short-fitting GCU T-shirt and ripped sweatpants. The legs cut off at his shins, reminding him of when his first major growth spurt. His grandmother had bought him clothes, complaining the whole time about how it was an inconvenience, simultaneously complaining about the ‘disrespect’ he showed by living in her house in ill-fitting clothes. 

He makes the bed, unnecessarily fluffing pillows and smoothing the duvet. Afterward, he takes to exploring the small kitchen and living room, positive there is more to the backup lair. Perhaps a gun? Or any weapon really. Before his toxin, he carried a handgun he could barely lift past his hip, as it suggest the Gotham handbook, 'So You Want To Be A Criminal'. So he searches high and low, going as far as the dishwasher without finding anything considerable. 

Oftentimes, breakouts from Arkham led to him being captured and or shutting himself away with research. Here there are novels and dreadful interior design arches. The change concerns him, but it’s far from blindsided. He’s known Ed for two years, and they've impacted each other. Moreover, manipulating and disrupting their lives for an extended one-night stand and some tolerable company. Shutting himself away is the reasonable defense. The phobia and terror can wait with him in a divine solitude without the Riddler because he can’t give in to their situation’s predictability. One day, Ed will ask him what he wants, and the answer will be wrong because his response is Ed, and the correct answer should be anything else. But, Jon can stop the way he tolerates? Likes? Assumed affection for? Christ, love? To the point of manic thinking and trying to reach outside of himself and into the frustrating euphoria. Admittance, a great relief taken off of the humanized portion of his mind, followed by Ed’s smugness and eventual rejection. Whether or not Ed believes themselves capable, it doesn’t secure anything.  
…..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you're having amazing day/night (because i know some of you are up at 3am reading fanfic) <3 !!! if your not having the best of times i offer my eternal support and these smiley faces :) :) :)


	8. friends with benefits..?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for context, this is at the 16-18 month point from when they first met. also tw: brief, blink and you miss it, mention of murder and blood...

The morning after is interesting. Different from a one-night stand with someone who was merely around. Sure, Ed’s constantly around, and Jon can't prevent confrontation or pretend it was a horny romp. For now, he can leave Ed's apartment. He's just a guest. But the Scarecrow and the Riddler ineffably reacquaint every time. Nevertheless, he silently removes tangles of blankets from around his legs and rearranges them to press against Ed's exposed body. He's not perverted, but the pink l freckles and joints are unavoidable. There's a weird perfection in the curtain-filtered sun. A renewed faith he can't quite place.

Eventually, he gathered the clothes he could find, though he remembers wearing a belt and starts dressing. While he zipped his fly, a voice called out. "Do you want-" A stretched yawn, "coffee?"

Both his arms dropped to his side, he wants to roll his eyes and snark but while glimpsing at Ed, his disposition falters. So he opts for playful banter, moving to pull on his worn dress socks, not examining why he wore his nicest pair to Ed’s to collaborate on a gas bomb surprise for Batman. "You don't drink coffee." 

The remainder didn’t affect Ed, "I have some for guests, but I won't hold you hostage. Runaway if you so desire." 

"I'm not running."

"Despised I am by knave and liar. After me, the wise inquires. What am I?"

"Edward, Christ. I am being sincere.” Jon insisted, avoiding Ed’s gaze. “Coffee would be appreciated."

…..

They sat on the couch, Ed drinking tea while the coffee machine brewed. Jon thought to make it himself, anything to keep from twiddling his thumbs. But of course, Ed’s machine is a complex disaster of pumps and steamers, pretentious and useless. They don’t even like coffee for fuck's sake.

Overthinking this is worthless and Ed doesn't care. Ed enjoys hot grass water, and Jon wonders why he forgot to bring fear gas or something-anything to save him from this silence and his affection for the moment.

Several moments later, a hot mug pressed into his hands. Funny, he hadn't noticed Ed getting up to the kitchen. "Are you okay?" 

And really, conserving himself is the only viable answer. "It was just sex."

A pause then, "I know." Ed crossed their legs, which didn’t provide much modesty in the short robe. "It never has to happen again, but I enjoyed myself.” They huffed, letting out a brief laugh,” Even if that's hard for you to hear." 

The mug's heat rose to Jon’s face, "I'm not a high school girl who needs validation." He took a sip and cleared his throat. 

Ed's lips curled. "Then accept it happened."

And like that, Jon has ground to stand on. Because Edward doesn’t accept things without prying, without comprehending every nook of the issue. He's a psychologist even if he's grasping at straws. Even if he's antisocial and reluctant towards any contact, Ed struggles with maintaining ensured control over their reaction to touch. In summary, Ed is or is or will be equally confused, but Jon's not a hopeless idiot, freaking out over normal functions.

…..

Sooner than later, Jon left. He left and headed to the most reasonable person available.

"I don't get the big deal professor," Harley said, sprawled across her couch. "You've always had a soft spot for Eds." 

He glared, "They're one of the most insufferable people I've ever had the displeasure of knowing." Liars go to hell according to his grandmother. But in terms of sin, lying is considerably decent.

Pamela took this moment to walk, wearing Harley's robe."Didn’t you two just fuck?" 

As he pinched the bridge of his nose, Jon groaned. Letting Pamela into his business beyond Scarecrow is terrible. She’s ten times better than the Joker, but some issues need Harley's confidence. 

"I didn't ask you, Pamela," he bit out her name, earning Harley's disapproval. Because that's her girlfriend and they're in love, and he’s just bitter with jealousy.

After springing off the sofa, Harley tugged him toward the kitchen, Pamela coming with him. He's settled at the table with tea, ignoring Pamela's bemused smirk and the temptation to throw the cup. Harley reached across the table, offering her hand for him to hold. Hesitant, Jon slowly complied. When did he grow tolerant? A year ago, he would've scoffed at holding hands and considering Edward Nygma as a -something? It’s hard to remind himself that he still has fear toxin and bloodstains on his clothes.

“Jonny,” Harley's hand squeezed gently. "You didn't make a declaration of love or renounce your existence."Her blue eyes lend him hope. "You're stressed because you care and no one is telling you to stop, Eddie included."

“She’s right,” Pamela opened the fridge, pulling out an orange juice carton. “The sexual tension has been there.”

…..

Collapsed onto the bed, Ed sighs, watching as a heel get chucked across the floor. Selina walked out of the closet moments later, wearing a formal dress, probably readying to rig the auction downtown. An easy grab and discreet venue, less attention from vigilante rodents.

With her head tilted back, she grabs an earring off the vanity, sending a glance their way. "So what were you babbling about at the door?."

They frown, throwing their arms behind them and against the pillows. "Crane and um. Well, Jon came over for the same side project- and I, we-"

"Fucked?"

"In simple terms."

She pawed the matching necklace, reaching out to tap Ed's leg. Understanding, they sat up and strung it around her neck, hooking the ends together. When the chain clicked, Selina pulled away before calmly turning to climb up on the bed. Risking a wrinkle to look them in the eyes.

"Did you consent and enjoy sleeping with Crane?" She asks, tone patient.

"Yes."

She elevated bother her eyes, proposing another question. "Did he consent to and like sleeping with you?"

Slightly scoffing, Ed answers. "Yes. And I know I'm the best he's ever had." And while Jon hadn't been the most adventurous, he was sweet and considerate and completely dry, though happy to console or let out a mellow laugh to make the situation a tad more comfortable. "I’m brilliant, as we know. But I don’t understand the angle he’s playing.”

She frowned, “Don’t quote me on this but, I think there’s no angle.” Cutting off Ed’s protest, she continued. “Crane doesn’t let people near him, but you’re the exception. Maybe his only angle is riling you. He never puts up with our bullshit, but he’s willing to accommodate anything you throw at him.”

There was a genuine point made there. Ed provoked Jon on purpose some days and through he snapped, there was always some sincere apology, either direct or secretive. So conceivably Jon did enjoy them more than the other rogues. But, Ed could only hope as they fell a bit deeper into the Scarecrow’s peculiar charms.

…..

Two days later, someone softly knocks on Ed’s door at 9 pm. It’s a suspicious time of night, so Ed grabs a small handgun before approaching the doorway. Peepholes are a excellent way to get stabbed or shot, or so they’ve heard, so they unlock the door and use the chain instead, which leaves a peak of seal space between them and whoever’s on the other side. Rather than looking, Ed stands with their back against the creaked door

“Who is it!?”

“Are you that paranoid, Mx. Nygma?”

The familiar voice sinks the previous apprehension. There have been weeks without a word from Jonathan, but since their previous visit, Ed’s been eager to hear from him. After they unlocked the chain the door swung open to reveal Jon. He wore a simple flannel with nearly fitting khakis, cheekbones sharp and dark circles filling the void under his eyes.

Ed gulped, “You’re here?”

“Yes.” Jon shrugged, “Figured we needed to communicate. I spoke with Harley who told me this wasn’t going to jeopardize our careers but Pamela was there, therefore expect gossip.” 

“Do you want to come in?” They offered, stepping aside. 

Coming inside, Jon muttered thanks.

With their arms resisted, Ed walked toward the couch. “You can make yourself comfortable, or not, depending on if you’re here to kill me.”

Jon’s face broke out in a surprising, but outright mesmerizing grin. “I’m not here to kill, gas, or inflict any pain upon you. I simply need to clear the air, so we can move past this.”

Inching closer, Ed bobbed their head in awareness. "Yes well, I still respect you in the morning and all of that. You are one of the smarter rogues, and I would never alienate you over something so trivial." 

"Right, well I- you, you're a favorable person and," He briefly choked on the sentiment. "A decent ally, regardless of an inane choice."

Ed pretended to wipe their eyes, "That was pure poetry Jonathan. I much appreciate your beautiful min-"

"And that's my cue to leave."

"Aw, I was going to offer a hug.'

"Don't even think about it."

A quaintness settleed across the flat as Ed wore a coy grin and Jon’s eyes remain glued to the floor. It never has to happen again. The phrase had rung through their ears a million times, filling Ed with regret and leaving Jon to ponder if the words were a mere suggestion. They had exchanged clarifications and were back to their usual passive, lively banter. The sole difference was Jon’s apprehension and Ed’s realization of personal boundaries. 

Popping their lips, Ed peered at the wall’s clock for show. “It’s late, did you intend on doing any work tonight?”

“Casual conversation doesn’t suit you,” Jon remarked. “And no, my lab is a mess. I miscalculated and nicked an artery when disposing of a patient yesterday.”

“Makes a terrible mess,” Ed agreed while stirring closer and closer, gradually gaining comfort and relearning usual intrusive habits. “So do you plan on leaving anytime soon? I need my beauty sleep, not that you’d understand.”

A hand brushes against Jon’s sleeve, trying to soothe a wrinkle around the elbow. “No I wouldn’t. There are better things to d-”

There was a hand cupping the side of his head, escorting him to kiss another pair of lips. They had kissed the night off but not as intimately. With faces shadowing each other and their pulses racing as hands went roaming. But at this moment, Ed was transferring them beyond the safety of lust, a boundary which made things easy to write off. And even though Jon knew, he didn’t mention it. He savored the exposing kiss before it turned into the refreshing romp and hands started tugging and asking yes/no questions. At the end, they were back in Ed’s bed for another night til morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should I write a side fic with the smut?...
> 
> thank you for reading this, it's a pretty late update but I dragged it out for a while :)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to everyone even reading this! it's nice to have somewhere to be expressive :) also i made a tumblr so if you ever want to contact me here it is!!! ///( https://riddleb9y.tumblr.com/ )///


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